Echos of the past
by Avid Reader403
Summary: Five years have past since the Jedi Civil War, and now the galaxy has reached a crossroads.  Will the Exile save it, or destroy it.  This is a sequel to Memories of a Stranger, and I welcome new readers and old. New and old faces will appear.  LSM Exile.
1. Prologue

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars, only original characters._**

_Five years have past since the Jedi Civil War, and when Revan, along with his forces, left the known galaxy. Since that day, the Republic has decayed and now clings on to its existence. The Jedi are all but destroyed, and those that remain are hunted mercilessly by an unknown enemy. Now, a ship that has not been seen in four years appears in the skies of Coruscant..._

The _Ebon Hawk_ flew effortlessly through the cloudy atmosphere as it sought out its chosen landing pad. Banking gracefully, it came to a stop before setting down softly on the pad. As the whine of the engines died down, the landing ramp extended fully with a soft thud as it hit the permacrete.

As Revan descended the ramp, he clearly heard the whistling of Coruscant's unceasing wind as it ruffled his short-cropped hair. It showed the platform's disuse, as normally there were stratigicly placed force-fields in place to block it.

Turning to face the Coruscant sunset, Revan walked off the landing ramp, admiring the beauty of nature as he waited. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards in a smile as he pondered the beauty of nature. It served to take his mind off the coming meeting for a precious few moments. The sound of robes snapping behind him soured his mood, dragging his thoughts back to the present.

"I am surprised you came in person," an aged female voice said. It still sounded the same—an almost formal voice—as when he last heard it.

"I was in the sector," Revan replied, "on business." He turned to face the hooded speaker. "What do you want, Kreia?"

"Why did you abandon the galaxy?" Kreia asked.

Her accusing tone cut into Revan's already shortened temper, causing it to flare. "I have not abandoned it," he countered, more heatedly than he meant. He felt his fingers twitch, wanting to form a fist; then, taking a calming breath, he relaxed his hands and his temper. He should have expected this from Kreia. "I do not need to explain myself to you," he continued more calmly.

"But you must answer to someone," she countered. "The galaxy decays because you gave up your right to rule it. It now needs the guidance of your strong hand, Revan. "

Revan briefly thought of his days as Kreia's Padawan. She had not changed much from those days: she still critiqued his every decision and move. "You clearly do not understand me nor my goals anymore," he said, shaking his head sadly. Changing the line of discussion, he repeated his earlier question. "What do you want, Kreia?"

"The galaxy needs you, Revan. The Sith have changed their plans from conquest to destruction."

"So _that_ is what you called yourself before they broke you," Revan said.

Kreia barely suppressed a flinch. Revan could almost see her asking herself how he knew. Glaring at him, she snapped, "That is what they are. And they have all but annihilated the Jedi. The Republic is not far behind. There will be nothing left if you remain idle, Revan."

"And why are you taking an interest in this, Kreia?" Revan asked, deciding to outright ignore her implication.

"Revenge." The lone word hung in the air, full of meaning.

"I do not remember honesty being one of your favorite virtues."

"Nor do I remember foolishness being one of yours," she retorted. "So I thought we would be honest to save time."

"So we are being candid now, are we," Revan replied, amused. "Yet in the same breath you are trying to manipulate me into being emotionally attached to your desire for revenge."

"It is interesting how one can be aware how they are being manipulated and yet the end result is still the same," Kreia countered, matching Revan's tone. "But that is of no importance. The state of the galaxy is everyone's problem. You know this."

"I do," Revan agreed. Turning to face the sunset, he crossed his arms and rested his right hand on his chin, pondering the situation. A finger idly tapped his lips as he stood deep in thought. He was aware that Kreia was waiting patiently in silence. The whistling wind mingled with the sound of distant speeders.

He gazed on the breathtaking sunset without seeing it. In his mind's eye, Revan saw his plans laid out before him, and how Kreia could possibly affect them. He ran many different scenarios quickly through his mind, depending on the Force to aid his insight on how she could help him.

"I can help you," Revan finally said, breaking the silence. "But"–he turned to look at her— "you must help me as well."

Kreia stood patiently, waiting for Revan to finish.

"There is at least one Jedi who has not yet been discovered by these so-called Sith." Revan could almost visibly see Kreia putting the pieces together.

"You can't mean…your brother?" she exclaimed, aghast.

"I can."

"But he is an exile!"

"And?"

"He's forsaken the Force!"

"Then you will be good friends." Revan's playful voice had an edge of transparisteel.

"He's too—"

"Dangerous?" Revan cut in. "Admit it, he is perfect. Give it a moment of thought." He walked quickly to the still lowered boarding ramp, ignoring Kreia's protests.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

'_This is a foolish plan_,' Then wind fluttered, tame compared to her roiling annoyance. '_How can he think that it could possibly work? And yet_…' Her thoughts trailed off. The more she pondered on it, the more it appealed to her.

Revan's footsteps descending the landing ramp interrupted her train of thought.

"And how will a hollow Jedi help me?" she asked, trying to get a greater feel for Revan's plan.

"He is far better suited to fight the fallen Jedi you want dead," he answered. "And this is where you will help me. You will bring him back to the Force and you can try to train him as your new Padawan."

"How am I to 'try to train him'?"

"The same way you tried to train me," Revan replied.

The pad's supports could be heard creaking faintly. The Force showed her what her blind eyes could not see: there was a coldness around her former Padawan. "Where might I find this exile?" she asked, changing the topic and ending the cold silence.

She faintly heard the soft sound of finely made cloth moving as Revan motioned with his hand. The sound of metallic feet on the landing ramp seemed to answer. "This droid," he said, as through the Force she saw that something lifeless had descended the ramp, "has all the information on the exile's last known position." She could hear the soft sound of cloth rubbing on short hair. "HK will show you to the cockpit. You had best be on your way," he added, striding to the walkway. "There are others looking for him as well."

"Why do I need to know where the cockpit is?" she asked to his retreating Force presence.

"The ship is yours," he called over his shoulder without slowing down.

Kreia's blind eyes stared after Revan as he turned a corner and cloaked his presence from her. She found herself pondering over their conversation and how it had ended. An electronic voice cut through her musings. "Statement: My master said that I am to show you to the cockpit. Threat: Come on, meatbag, or I will drag you there."

Kreia took a calming breath. '_I will never understand Revan's fascination with droids_,' she thought. '_I hate their unliving presence in the Force.'_ She turned towards the _Ebon Hawk_ and began walking up the ramp.

Passing through what she sensed to be the largest room on the ship, probably the main hold, she followed HK-47 into the cockpit. "Droid, set course to the exile's position," she ordered coldly.

To her surprise, HK-47 turned to a small droid that she had not noticed. "Statement: You heard the meatbag." Dimly, Kreia perceived that HK-47 was unhappy in a droid-like way, but she did not care. She had other things on her mind as she sat down into the pilot's chair and began the preflight procedures.

Two thoughts dominated her mind: firstly, Revan's odd reaction to her calling her enemies Sith. Secondly, and the thought that occupied her mind the most, was that Revan still had not forgiven her for how she had trained him.

The _Ebon Hawk_ responded well to her touch as it rose of the landing pad into the darkening sky, the engines purring with power out of place for such a small freighter.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

As the Republic Battle cruiser _Harbinger_ sped through space, a man stood facing one of the many transparisteel windows, watching the swirling stars of hyperspace. The Harbinger was bringing him back from his self-imposed exile from the Republic.

_The Republic needs you_. That had been what they had told him when they had found him. It was almost identical to the call that he had answered at the beginning of the Mandolorian War. Now he found himself answering that call again.

A beep from his burrowed wrist comm unit reminded him that it was time for his appointment in the medical bay. Something about medicine or vaccines that he needed to take. The man sighed deeply and, turning away from the window, whispered, "I'm back."

* * *

><p><strong>EDIT:<br>**I have found several new Beta Readers and one of them has suggested to rewrite the first two chapters to help improve the overall quality of the story and the story-telling. I do hope you enjoy the changes. Also a warning; there will now be a greater delay between when I post additional chapters. I also have plans to go back and rewrite Memories of a Stranger to bring it up to the same level of story telling, but I will not do that now as it would only delay this story even longer.

Enjoy!

**Author's note: **With that said, I would like to announce that I have officially returned for all those who have been waiting for a sequel to my first story. As always, I am open to suggestions as this will help myself and the story as a whole.

So far it is looking like this story will follow in part the original storyline. But it also looks like it could quickly deviate as well. We shall see.


	2. A Frozen Reception

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars, only Original characters.**  
><em>

_Escaping from the events of the now destroyed Peragus station, Kreia, the Exile, Atton Rand, and the droids fled to Telos only to find more problems: The Ebon Hawk was stolen. Fighting their way through mercenaries working for corrupt business syndicates and wild beasts, they finally found the location of the Ebon Hawk through the help of Bao-Dur, an old associate of the Exile. _

_Arriving at the location of a secret Jedi academy, the Exile came face to face with someone else from his past. Atris, a member of the Jedi council and one of the most prominent persons who campaigned for his exile…._

"I had not expected to see you again after the day of your sentencing," Atris said with out preamble, walking towards the Exile. "I thought that you had taken the path of an exile, wandering the galaxy. Yet you have returned," she said, stopping a few feet away, "Why?"

"What have you done with my friends?"

"Your concern has been noted; your friends are unharmed. They have been detained for their own safety." Atris stated in a calm tone that somehow still made her seem self-conceited. "However, I do find it…unusual, that you are traveling with others again. I had thought you had cast off such things at the end of the Mandalorian Wars. Or," she looked at him slyly, "are you here to see me?"

"It was not my plan to see you, Atris." The Exile replied in an even tone. "I am just here to get my ship back."

"No matter your reasons for being here, your presence demands an explanation!" Atris thundered in an accusing tone of voice. Her accusing tone sharpened as she continued, "Peragus is destroyed. Then you arrive from a Peragus on the very ship that Revan himself has been using." Atris' tone of voice made it clear that she expected the Exile to answer her.

"First, I am not under your jurisdiction anymore," the Exile began in a firm voice. "Second, the Ebon Hawk was the only ship available. Third, it was the Sith Lord who destroyed Peragus, not me."

"I see. A Sith Lord _conveniently_ destroyed Peragus."

"Doubt me if you want," the Exile retorted, "but I am being just as honest as I was that day when you sentenced me to exile." His voice, though quiet, hardened perceptibly.

Atris's eyes closed and her expression turned wooden. "I remember that day," her voice turned soft. "I remember your words…how they rang with truth. I also remember your defiance," she removed a lightsaber from her belt, activating it as she spoke, "I have kept this as a reminder of that day."

He recognized it immediately as his own, "I did not think that you would want to remember that day."

"I remember it," Atris replied, her voice growing as hard as ice, "so I would not fall to the Dark Side as you have done!"

"You really think that I fell to the Dark side?" The Exile's voice was soft with disbelief. Atris's accusing stare answered his question.

"Atris," his voice hardened, growing an edge, "you are a fool." Her face clouded with anger and, drawing in air, she opened her mouth to rebuke him, but the Exile pressed on heedless of her anger. "You stand there, proclaiming your own self-righteousness and condemning others without so much as a shred of evidence or even bothering to listen to them."

"How dare you…" Atris began, her voice rising in anger.

The Exile spoke over her, "and the rest of the council is just like you! That is what I learned that day eight years ago. That Revan was right about you all."

"You do not kn…"

"You and the council do not know!" the Exile snapped. "There is a time for meditation and a time for action and neither you nor the council can tell the difference!"

"How dare you," Atris's spat, eyes narrowing in anger. "The Mandalorian Wars should have been your grave and Malachor V is where you should have died!"

"Is that how you really feel?" The Exile asked his voice becoming quiet. "Is that what is hidden behind the veneer of self-righteousness?"

"You see shadows where there are none," Atris denied, "and hate where there is none. You are blind, as always," she spat. Pausing and visibly composing herself, she continued, "I grow tired of fighting with you. You want your 'ship', take it. You want your friends, take them. Just, leave," she made pushing motions with her hands, as if by the mere gesture she could throw the Exile out.

Four of Atris's Handmaidens quickly walked forward. "We shall remove him, mistress." Two of the Handmaidens led the Exile away while the other two remained.

"Are you alright, Mistress," the elder of the two Handmaidens asked after the Exile had left.

"He reminded me of something I had forgotten," Atris said, sounding wistful and but still agitated. Her eyes grew distance, gazing across time.

"Forgive me, Mistress, but the Exile," the Handmaiden searched for words, "I have never seen anyone effect you that strongly. Was he someone important to you before?"

"We all have our heroes," Atris answered. "And when they fall we die inside." Her eyes refocused on the Handmaidens.

"The Exile must not be allowed to spread his taint to the galaxy. Both of you go and arrange it so that though he may take off, neither he nor the crew will live."

"Mistress?" The lesser of the Handmaidens asked, surprised.

"Do not question my wisdom," Atris looked pointedly at the lesser Handmaiden. "I see things that you cannot see. Go and do as I have instructed you. But remember," Atris interrupted the Handmaidens began to bow, "the Exile is wise. You must be cunning."

"As you wish, Mistress," the older Handmaiden answered before the lesser Handmaiden could add anything else. Giving a small bow, they left. Atris turned towards her meditation chamber, shutting off the Exile's former lightsaber as she walked.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Do you think they used to have a 'thing' for each other?"

"What?" the Lesser Handmaiden looked at her older half-sister in surprise. "Who are you talking about?"

"Mistress Atris and the Exile," the Older Handmaiden explained. "I think they used to be lovers or something like that." She pressed on as she armed a gas mine and placed it into one of the Ebon Hawk's ventilation ducts. "You saw how angry she was. Nobody has ever made her _that_ angry."

"Sister," the Lesser Handmaiden finally said, "I think you are too addicted to romance novels. Don't worry," she reassured her horrified half-sister, "Mistress Atris does not know. I think she is the only one who does not know." Her half-sister looked far from reassured that Atris did not know about her secret. Such past-times where not strictly forbidden, but Atris did not approve of such things.

"Why are we doing this?" the Lesser Handmaiden asked, changing the subject.

"You remember what Mistress said," she said looking at her half-sister, "The Exile has fallen to the Dark Side."

"But has he?" she looked at the Older Handmaiden, her eyes sincere. "I do not think he has fallen. He may not be a Jedi anymore, but he is not a Sith. But to be fair, I do not feel that Mistress Atris is a Jedi anymore either."

The Older Handmaiden stopped what she was doing and looked at her younger half-sister. "Those are treacherous words," her eyes were as hard as her voice.

The Lesser Handmaiden fought to match her half-sister's gaze, "but am I right?"

The Older Handmaiden was the first to look away. "I don't know," she answered. "Several hours, ago I would have said that you are wrong…but the Exile…I don't understand her anymore. If only…."

A rusty-red colored droid stepped into the passageway, blaster raised. The Lesser Handmaiden reached for her own pistol, voicing a warning that was drowned out by the droid's blaster. The Older Handmaiden was turning to face her foe when the blaster fire cut her down. Though the Lesser Handmaiden was caught in the middle of the passageway, her half-sister's collapsing body was between her and the droid. The falling body could not protect her for more than a moment, but that moment was long enough.

Raising her pistol, she dodged to the side and fired at the droid, striking it in the main chassis. To her amazement, her single shot dropped the droid.

Turning back to her fallen half-sister, she cursed, checking for her fallen sister's heartbeat.

A piercing electronic shriek came from behind her. Twisting around she swung her weapon to bear on what was behind her. She did not see her new assailant as an electric blue stun bolt filled her vision, only to be replaced by the blackness of unconsciousness.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\/\/\\/\/\/\\/\/\\/\/

The droids of the Ebon Hawk were _definitely_ not having a good day.

HK-47 had started out the day in a semi-powered down state running diagnostics on his systems until T3-M4 would return to aid in his repair.

'Thought: Curse that look-a-like who shot me,' HK-47's processors sped up in anger. 'Looking like me, then daring to shoot me while my self-preservation protocols were busy telling me that it was myself I was looking at.'

HK-47 stood in the small storage compartment that was attached to the main hold, powered down except for his processors and other minor systems running diagnostics. As his diagnostics on his auditory sensors were running, he began to hear voices. Powering up all the way, he split the attention of his processor between what his diagnostics were telling him, and who might be the voices he was hearing.

'Thought: Overall status: 40% normal capabilities. Combat status: 20% normal capabilities. Self-assessment: I will tear that imposter droid apart, actuator by actuator. Assessment of unknown meatbags: Two female meatbags. Confusion: The small one has said nothing about Master's brother adding any additional female meatbags to our crew. Conclusion: They must be intruders.'

HK-47's processor purred. He knew what to do with intruders. 'Thought: I must begin my preparations for an unadulterated slaughter.' With that thought in mind, he grabbed his blaster which had been concealed by the door to the small storage room.

As he started to leave the closet, HK-47 immediately discovered a problem. His right knee joint had frozen. Cursing the imposter with all kinds of droid curses, that would have shocked and offended T3-M4, and proceeded to unlock the joint to the best of his ability.

Unlocking it, HK-47 grabbed his blaster from where it had been tucked away. Clomping as quickly and quietly as he could mange, his joints still seemed to screech in his sensitive auditory enhancers.

'Thought: Those meatbags must be deaf if they cannot hear me coming.'

Pausing at the entrance to the corridor, HK-47 confirmed that the two meatbags were currently in that very hallway, a little ways down and in-between him and the garage. As he assessed the situation, HK-47 became aware that the two meatbags were conversing. 'Thought: How peculiar, two meatbags, intruding and then becoming involved in philosophical discussions. What is the Galaxy coming to?' He listened for several moments. 'Thought: It appears that this discussion will last sometime. Perhaps I can kill them as they leave?' HK-47's thoughts where interrupted by the whirring noise of T3-M4's wheel servo motors.

HK-47's processors sped up to deal with this new development. 'Thought: The little one will be heard by them soon enough. Then I could attack them. No, that is too risky. If the little one were to be damaged, it would take that much longer to regain my full functionality.'

HK-47 paused for a moment, running several scenarios. 'Thought: Yes, the best course of action is to ambush them now.' His processors purred at the thought of slaughtering the intruding meatbags.

Rushing, as fast as his inhibited state would allow, HK-47 stepped into the corridor and raised his blaster. "Exclamation: DIE MEATBAGS!" His synthetic voice could almost be heard over the roar of his blaster. HK-47 watched, pleased as the first meatbag fell under the fire of his blaster. Unfortunately, the other meatbag stood on the far side of the first, thus being protected for several moments from his fire. A problem that his damaged systems had not fully detected.

As HK-47 adjusted his aim for when the body of the first meatbag was out of the way, he was surprised to see the second meatbag already aiming a weapon around her comrades falling body. Her threat level rose in HK-47's database, as well as his appreciation of her skills, and his joy at her impending death.

HK-47's processors sped up to a whole new speed, this time in horror. As he had begun to evade, his right knee froze again; this time with the weight partially removed from his right foot. His heightened perceptions, which came with the faster processor speed, also detected multiple failures in his right arm, apparently triggered by his poor condition and his rapid firing of his blaster.

HK-47 watched in slow motion horror as the blaster bolt slowly slammed into his chest. He felt the same horror as he lost his balance as well. As HK-47 moved slowly through his fall, he began to curse the imposter with every droid curse he knew. When he had exhausted those, he began branching off into the more imaginative of the meatbag curses. HK-47 had no lack of curses as he was well versed in a large number of forms of communication. He was still cursing as he hit the floor and the power surge from jostled, damaged components shut him down. It was just not his day.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

T3-M4 was upset. First he had been hijacked, along with the ship, by some white-haired organics who had taken him to a base in the polar region of Telos. After that, those same organics had tried to hack into his memory banks; little did they realize that he had hacked them. He let out a few beeps of pride; he was after all, the best slicer droid ever made. Luckily, his new master, the brother of his first master according to his files, had somehow talked to the organics and had arranged for T3-M4's freedom. Now, he was on his way back to the ship. He had been ordered to prep it for his master's departure.

Driving up the boarding ramp, T3-M4 took a brief moment to look at the Ebon Hawk, and all the damage it had taken. He whistled in sadness as he surveyed the damage. It did not help that he had all the images from the ships glory days with his first master. Now, it was still space-worthy, but severely damaged.

Continuing into the ship he also saw all the interior damage that the Ebon Hawk had taken. T3-M4 moaned quietly at all the work he had ahead of him. He still had to repair his homicidal companion, HK-47. Revan had been quite clear to him that they needed to work together to aid in this mission.

T3-M4 was wheeling his way towards the main hold when he suddenly heard blaster fire from the rear corridor. Turning, he hurried to the source of the sound and was greeted by an unpleasant sight. T3-M4 saw HK-47 fall to the ground with one of the white-haired organics facing the fallen assassin droid. Shrieking in anger, he deployed his hold-out blaster and fired multiple shots at the assailant. Of course, he kept in mind that his new master, if he was anything like his old master, would want to know what the organics had been doing there. Therefore, blue stun bolts few towards and struck the white-haired organic and dropping her.

Hurrying past the two fallen hijackers, T3-M4 shot the other hijacker just in case, and then checked on HK-47. T3-M4 beeped in frustration when he found that HK-47 was indeed out of commission. Again. He would probably take even more time to fix without someone else helping T3-M4. Deploying his emergency grabbling hook, T3-M4 proceeded to drag HK-47's fallen hulk to the garage, where what was left of the meager spare parts could be found.

Dropping off HK-47 in the Ebon Hawks garage, T3-M4 hurried to the cockpit to finish his first task of the day: prep the ship. Starting the preflight startup sequences, and seeing that everything was functional, he hurried back towards the garage and also to where the hijackers where. That was when he realized he had another problem, T3-M4 did not know how long organics would remained stunned. Beeping in worry, he sped up on his way back to the garage, when he heard a welcoming noise, the sound of his new master's voice.

Turning to the boarding ramp, he saw his master and three organics come in. One was the old woman his first master had left him with. The second was the organic from Peragus station; the third…was new to him. He looked like a Zabrak though. T3-M4 rushed forward beeping and whistling the story of what he had found to his master.

"Not now, T3," His master said, looking tired.

T3-M4 beeped even more urgently. His master had to know about the hijackers!

"Just," his master waved him away, "not now." He beeped in irritation as everyone moved into the main hold, completely missing the corridor where the hijackers were. Beeping in frustration he headed back to the where the hijackers were lying.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Atton flew the Ebon Hawk out of the hanger and towards open space. "How are you holding up?" he asked the Exile.

"I'm tired."

"What happened back there?"

"I don't want to talk about it right now," the Exile replied. His expression changed, "Did you just hear something? Something…like a stun blast."

"It is an older ship, it will make noises every now and then," Atton answered. "Now don't change the topic."

"Just like you, I will talk when I am ready."

"Ouch," Atton replied with mock pain. "I did not think you knew me that well."

"I know you well enough to know that." The Exile cocked his head again as if listening to something. "Did you hear that just now? It was that noise again."

**Author's Note:**

Well, I am announcing that updates will be a little slower than they were in my previous story as I now have a full time job. I will continue, have no fears.

So, this chapter is a little longer than I normally write, hope you all do not mind. I also hope you enjoyed the humor I tried to put in the story. As for a little peek into the future, there will be two handmaidens on the Ebon Hawk, not one. I also plan to eventually add a romance between Briana the Handmaiden and the Exile, but we shall see where the story takes us.

I would like to hear you opinions and thoughts on where you think these change of events will take the story. Or even changes you would like to see. I will weigh all suggestions fairly, otherwise I would not ask for them. Who knows, maybe you will see your idea happen. Ultimately, I will follow where the story (this story, not the canon) takes me. Otherwise I would break the characters, and the story.

I would also ask forgiveness for any errors that slips through my only beta reader. I am now bi-lingual and it is a lot harder to remember English than it was two years ago.


	3. Arguments and Decisions

"We should kill her," Atton waved aggressively at the unconscious form of the injured Handmaiden from the doorway of the med bay. "We should kill both of them," he amended.

Anakin almost sighed. "I'm not going to kill them without a reason, nor in cold blood." T3-M4 whistled in approval.

"Come on, Anakin," he exclaimed in frustration. "They were trying to kill us."

"We have no proof."

"What about the gas mines in the vents?"

"They could have been removing," Anakin knew his own voice lacked conviction. He honestly knew he was grasping at straws.

"You don't know that!"

"And neither do you, Atton," agitation crept into his voice. "Only HK-47 knows."

"Why else would he attack them?" Atton shot back. "Would he just kill them for fun?"

T3-M4 piped up before Anakin could respond, whistling and beeping. He looked at T3-M4 in surprise as he grasped the little droid's meaning. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Atton also staring at the droid.

"You're joking," Atton said. "He would?"

T3-M4 beeped affirmatively. Glance over at Atton, Anakin tried to keep a straight face at the comical expression on his companion's face.

"You're not helping!" Atton rounded on him again. "Why are you playing the Sith's advocate?"

"Because, even if they were trying to kill us, Atris is the one to blame, not them."

"That'll be a small comfort when we're dead," Atton muttered.

Anakin walked away from the unconscious form of the older of the two Handmaidens. "How soon until we arrive at Dantooine?"

"Five hours," Atton answered, stepping out of the doorway. Anakin nodded his thanks as he walked past him into the main corridor. Turning, walked towards the main hold.

"What're your plans for when you get there?" Atton asked. He was glad that Atton had seemed to drop the subject. "See if any Jedi Masters are left?"

"No." He saw frown on Atton's face. "I am looking for lightsaber parts."

"What, you lost your old one?"

"After a fashion. The Jedi Council confiscated it when the exiled me. Now that it seems my enemies include a Sith Lord, I'll need one to defend myself. Plus, since I started using the Force again, I've felt the absence of my old one."

"Makes sense." Atton nodded. Stopping in the doorway to the fore-part of the _Ebon Hawk _he looked Anakin in the eye. Bracing himself, Anakin took a deep breath. It would seem Atton wasn't willing to drop it, yet.

"Look," Atton began. "I know you don't like the idea of—"

"Atton, I don't want to hear it."

"We don't need to kill them," Atton pressed on, "at least not the one in med bay." Anakin felt the palpable silence grow the longer he looked into Atton's cold, killer eyes.

"I do not," He fixed Atton with a heated glare he had perfected years before when dealing with insubordinate soldiers, "want to hear you say such a thing again. It still is murder."

"There's a difference," Atton protested.

"No there is not, Atton. It was logic exactly like that that caused Revan to fall to the Dark Side in the first place."

Atton stiffened in anger. Opening his mouth, he inhaled to expel a heated retort, but he caught himself. Closing his mouth, his face settled into a hard frown.

Anakin held his glare for a few more moments, before taking a deep calming breath.

"Look Atton," he began in a calmer voice. "I know you do not like it. In truth, neither do I, but this is what we are going to do."

"If you don't like it, then why are you doing it?"

His mouth worked for a few moments, as he suddenly found it hard to voice the reason. "Because, the Force is prompting me to let them stay."

Atton stared at him silently for several moments. His face perfectly still, except for the confusion flickering in his eyes. "I don't understand you."

"At least understand this," he almost plead, "Anytime the Force has prompted me to do something, I have never regretted following it. Even during the Mandalorian Wars."

"Think on it Atton," Anakin's shoulders slumped a little in exhaustion. So far, it had been a long day. "In an hour we'll discuss this as a group." He walked away, heading for the starboard dormitory with the plan of catching a brief nap. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Atton still standing in the same spot.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The Lesser Handmaiden leaned against her prison door in thought. She had tried to escape her prison, which in reality looked like a regular storage compartment that had simply been emptied, and then the door locked. Little did she know that T3-M4 had watched her antics through security footage before labeling her highly unlikely of breaking out. Her skills at hot wiring doors, those that she had, were hardly adequate to do anything.

She had been thinking of giving up, when she had heard the conversation between the Exile and Atton. She had heard their voices and at first she had been inclined to ignore them, but you never knew when you might learn something. She had learned something.

So, the Exile didn't want to kill her or her sister. In her heart she had suspected the reason. She had suspected it for a while. The Exile had not fallen to the Dark side. Not like Mistress Atris had claimed.

Somehow, realizing that her Mistress was wrong did not affect her as much as she thought it would. It could be because the more she had learned about the Jedi, the more she felt that something seemed, off about Mistress Atris.

Her older half sister would have scolded her for such thoughts. Teneem definitely would have called those thoughts traitorous. She smiled fondly at the thoughts of her older half-sister. Even though all her other half-sisters looked down on her for what the her parents had done, Teneem had chosen not to. Instead, the older Handmaiden had treated her like a younger sister.

"What am I going to do?" The Lesser Handmaiden sighed in frustration as her thoughts returned to the matter at hand. Leaning her head back on to the door to her 'prison', she began to ponder her situation.

"Well, I am a prisoner and my sister is injured. At least one of the crew members wants to kill us, and right now we do not have a way off the ship," she muttered to herself. "Have I missed anything?" She paused for a moment. "Ah, yes. The Exile won't kill me or my sister because the Force told him not to." She frowned. "Actually, he said that the Force had told him to let us stay. Why stay? Why not just spare and drop us off the first chance he gets?"

She stopped suddenly in her train of thought. Why would she want to leave? She had always wanted to learn more about Jedi, maybe the Exile would be more open than Atris. Of course there was the problem that Atris didn't want them to learning more about the Jedi Order. Brianna felt her desires conflicting, she wanted to learn more about the Jedi, but she did not want to betray the trust of her Mistress.

"What should I do? It would have been so much easier if only Mistress hadn't been acting the so un-Jedi like. She sat torn for several moments unsure what she should do.

"That's it," she whispered, raising her head off the door. "I can watch him, and ensure he hasn't fallen to the Dark side, and if I happen to learn something along the way…," she smiled tightly. "Yes, that will work."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"…and so I have decided to let them stay with us if they choose." Anakin looked around the Ebon Hawk's garage at his motley crew. To say that they were excited about his decision was a stretch.

"Are you certain about this General?" Bao-Dur asked. Anakin looked at the Zabrak engineer, who was still only vaguely familiar to him, and nodded. "Then I'll follow your orders General."

Anakin nodded and turned to looked at Atton. "Atton?"

Atton returned Anakin's gaze. "I've already told you what I think."

"But will you except my decision?"

Atton sighed. "Yes, I will. But if they try something—"

"I'll take care of it. It's my decision, my responsibility."

"Well whatever, I'll help you clean up your mess."

Anakin nodded, "thank you." He inhaled a lung full of air before turning to his final organic crew member. "Kreia?"

Kreia was quite for a moment. "If that is you desire, then yes. Indeed, what is one more worthless sentient compared to our journey?

Anakin felt his patience slipping. How Revan ever survived being this cryptic controlling person's apprentice he would never know. He was half certain that it was this woman's constant air of disapproval that had driven his brother to the Dark Side. "Thank you Kreia," he answered, taking her words at face value.

"If you are done here, I will be in my chambers." She turned and glided from the room, a shadow of arrogance personified.

"By all means," Anakin replied to her retreating back, waving her on. Looking away from Kreia, he caught Atton glaring daggers at her back. Apparently she was _very_ good at winning friends amongst his motley crew. "Well," he met his companion's eyes, and photoreceptor, "let's go free our prisoner."

**Authors Note:**

I apologize for the delay, but I am beginning to work on this story again.

As always, I welcome constructive criticism and suggestions. I hope you are enjoying my little twists and turns that I am putting in.

Also, I am officially announcing a strong desire to rewrite my first story. Just saying, one of these days (maybe this week) the first chapter of my first story will change.


End file.
